


An Odd Sort of Meet-Cute

by arrow_through_my_writers_block



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - No Arrow, Alternate Universe - No Island, Awkwardness, Comedy, Eventual Smut maybe, F/M, Gen, Meet-Cute, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Shopping, cute first meeting, inspired by a twitter conversation, started out as a damn one shot and then ideas took over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 16:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12868776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrow_through_my_writers_block/pseuds/arrow_through_my_writers_block
Summary: When Felicity goes shopping for a new coat, she doesn't expect to come out of the store with a date.





	An Odd Sort of Meet-Cute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [latinasmoak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/latinasmoak/gifts).



> Wrote this ages ago and am just now adding it to my Ao3. 
> 
> This fic is inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/latinasmoak/status/841520867276337152) twitter conversation. There is certainly room for expansion, of which I plan on doing eventually. Hope you enjoy it!

_“Say a man and a woman both need something to sleep in and both go to the same men’s pajama department. The man says to the salesman, ‘I just need bottoms,’ and the woman says, ‘I just need a top.’ They look at each other and that’s the ‘meet cute.'” - The Holiday_

* * *

 

She just wanted a large coat. Something sensible. Something with lots of pockets that would be comfy for any possible scenario. And  _warm_. God, she needed something warm. The coats she had bought recently weren’t shielding her from the Starling City winter chill in the least and it was time for a change. She knew she should shop somewhere more high-end, somewhere with fancy sections dedicated to one overpriced length of fabric that some might call a dress and condescending saleswomen with pinched faces and raised brows. But she couldn’t afford that.  _Not yet_ , she reminded herself.

So Felicity opened the door to a three level  _H &M _and welcomed the ridiculous music and strange pattern combinations with a roll of her eyes. She went straight for the outerwear in the women’s section and turned away almost instantly. Brightly colored versions of all the same damn coats she already owned. Slim. Belted at the waist. Thin fabric. She could just hear her mother’s voice in her head.

_“Oh, but you can layer things. You have such a lovely figure, Felicity. Don’t hide it!”_

Felicity shook her head. “Not today,” she murmured as she went up the escalator to the second floor and was greeted by the men’s section. Muted tones. Lots of plaid. She perused the selection of jackets and coats, her impatience growing. She feared she’d never find the right cut, fabric or color. She feared she’d be stuck in her unsatisfying options all winter.

And then she saw it.

The perfect navy blue.

The perfect wide cut.

The perfect amount of pockets.

It was on a rather tall mannequin - taller than all of the others. And, from where she was standing and even at the odd angle, muscled as all hell. She walked over and eyed the collar as she reached up to feel the fabric.  _Perfect!_  she thought as she traced the line of the stitching down to a lovely polished button and…

The mannequin moved.

Just a shift in the shoulders and tap of the foot. But the mannequin moved.

She screamed, suddenly having flashbacks to that weird movie from the eighties her mother loved so much.  _Am I in the gender-bent version of that?_

“Can I help you?” the mannequin asked, voice low and seductive, but etched with amusement.

She looked up into mesmerizing blue eyes. “Uh. No.” The words were there, begging to spill free - begging to overflow and scare the sexy mannequin away. And despite her proficiency in fighting the word vomit, the mannequin’s eyes were too much for her. The curve of his lips as he fought back a grin was enough to make her knees go weak. And the mole at the corner of his mouth looked delicious. “I am so sorry. You’re not a mannequin. You’re a man.” Then she let out a little huff of laughter. “Huh.  _Man_ -equin. Is that how they came up with that word?”

Her hand was still at his collar, fingers caressing the fabric. She let it fall and stepped away, cheeks flushing with hot embarrassment. She glanced away from the mannequin - the  _man_  - to find two people watching them, close and grinning. A large, Hulk of a man with biceps larger than her head. A young woman who bore striking facial similarities to the man she had just coat-fondled.

Felicity lifted her hand and waved awkwardly. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said as she stepped out of their little triangle of silence.

She ran down the escalator and pretended to merge with the racks of sequined dresses as her eyes scanned the store, in search for the mysterious man. When he didn’t appear, she rested her head on her hand where it held onto the rack and closed her eyes. “Relax, Smoak. This isn’t the weirdest thing you’ve ever done.”

“It isn’t?”

That voice again. Sultry and amused.

She looked up to find the man watching her, one brow raised in distinct interest. His companions were slightly behind him, watching. Felicity imagined that they had popcorn.

“Unfortunately, it isn’t.”

The man let out a little chuckle and stepped closer. “I’d like to hear about these other, weirder things.”

Her eyes widened. “You would?”

He nodded. “And perhaps we can discuss some sort of joint custody of my coat.”

She blushed once more. “Oh, no! I couldn’t. That’s not what I was doing. I mean, well, I was, but that was before I realized you were a man and the coat wasn’t for sale.”

The man shrugged. “We can negotiate.” Then he stuck out his hand. “I’m Oliver. Oliver Queen.”

With slight hesitation, she took his hand and shook. “Felicity Smoak.”

“How does coffee sound, Felicity?”

She raised a brow as their hands disconnected. Her eyes narrowed a bit as she studied his face. “Do you mean coffee like  _real_ coffee or  _coffee_  like Luke Cage offers coffee?”

The man behind Oliver let out a hearty laugh and covered his face. As he shook his head, she heard him speak between bursts of laughter. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

The young woman smiled and patted Oliver’s shoulder. “I think you’ve finally found someone as dorky and weird as you are. Well done, Ollie.”

Oliver glared at the young woman and then turned to face Felicity. “Real coffee,” he said with a wink as he began walking away, his coat so inviting and his presence the source of puzzlement. But she followed him anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think?! Comments and kudos are appreciated! 
> 
> Twitter: @miss_writer  
> Tumblr: @arrow-through-my-writers-block


End file.
